


The Candidate

by weakinteraction



Category: Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gallifreyan Politics, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romana's presidential campaign doesn't get off to the smoothest of starts when she is ambushed by an interviewer. Braxiatel is on hand to straighten things out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Candidate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaesa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesa/gifts).



"I must say that I would strongly prefer to be in there with you," Braxiatel said. Leela, stood next to him, nodded vigorously.

"And I would much rather have you in there with me," Romana replied. "Both of you," she added, smiling at Leela. "But Wrobin was quite insistent that he wanted to speak to all three of us alone. And since Wrobin is, apparently, in charge of this election, I must accede to his wishes."

She nodded at them and palmed the lock of Wrobin's chambers. The door slid open and she walked in, leaving her friends behind. She wondered what they might find to talk about.

On the other side of the room, Wrobin was sat behind a curved desk, with her two fellow candidates on the other side, an empty chair between them. Clearly they were more interested in being as far as possible from each other than worried about the symbolism of ceding her the centre ground. As she crossed the floor, she took the time to study all three of them.

Wrobin looked, for once, as though he felt the age he looked. He had been in this, his tenth body, since regenerating during the Morbius crisis nearly a millennium ago. He had spent most of the last three centuries as Assembler of the Quorum, a position which everyone, most especially Wrobin himself, had considered a sinecure until the recent scandal and ensuing resignation of the sitting President; he had not had the opportunity to name a successor in the traditional fashion, and it was doubtful anyone would have accepted his choice if he had. Now he had a staff of two dozen, seconded from all the major Chapters and Colleges, poring over the consitution to determine exactly who was entitled to vote in a Presidential election.

Isurnei, she knew well from the many clashes they had had in the High Council. Shrewd, manipulative ... and if not in fact CIA plant on the High Council, so thoroughly convinced of the rightness of both their goals and their methods that she might as well have been. Positioning herself as the continuity candidate, she claimed to have had nothing to do with the Ravolox affair; Romana doubted it but there was no compelling proof.

On the other hand, Romana had never met Trismegistus in person before, though she had heard many of the speeches he had made in recent weeks about corruption on the High Council. Some of them had even been good. He was barely out of the Academy, still in his first body and so fresh-faced that he could be mistaken for a Time Tot. He was younger even, Romana reflected, than she had been when she had begun travelling with the Doctor. An idealist, he had declared his candidacy only once it had transpired that no one else amongst his group of was willing to put their head above the parapet. Romana had to admit to herself that she admired him, even as she worried that he would go down be a disaster if he were somehow to become President.

Romana smiled broadly at them all as she sat down. Wrobin nodded in acknowledgement, but the others avoided meeting her gaze. Isurnei tapped her fingers impatiently on the underside of the table, while Trismegistus simply looked straight at Wrobin, waiting for him to begin.

Wrobin cleared his throat, a sound like parchments rustling over one another. "This is all most unprecedented," he began. "There have been contested elections in the past, of course, though admittedly before my own time, but never before one with three candidates."

"Get to the point," Isurnei said.

"Well, to begin at the beginning, I am now thoroughly convinced that you are all eligible candidates." Romana knew that Isurnei had been trying to find ways to rule Trismegistus out. She even suspected that Braxiatel, who saw Trismegistus as a rival for the votes of reform-minded Time Lords, had been feeding her camp lines of attack. "But I primarily asked you all to attend this brief meeting to establish some ground rules for the ... ah, 'campaigning', I believe is the word?"

"Eminently sensible," Romana said, when Wrobin did not continue.

"Thank you, Lady Romanadvoratrelundar." Wrobin looked at each of them directly in turn before continuing, his eyes showing that despite his body's increasing decreptiude, his mind remained as sharp as ever. "I would like to suggest four simple rules. One: I am the final arbiter of any disputes you may have with each other or other offices of state. Two: there shall be no use of the Matrix, either to attempt to predict the result of the election or to provide supporting evidence for anything you wish to say. Though you don't really have much choice on that one; the Keeper has already agreed to restrict access completely. Three: you shall not make personal attacks on one another, but instead discuss what policies you in. Four: likewise, to ensure that the debate is a forward-looking one, there will be no discussion of previous holders of the office of President. Since none of them are standing in this election, they are, quite simply, irrelevant."

Isurnei jumped in immediately to answer. "I think your rules most sensible, Assembler, and will abide by them at all times."

Trismegistus spoke evenly, but Romana sensed anger behind his words. "If I may say so, these 'ground rules' of yours seem intended to prevent anyone from raising the important questions which remain unanswered about the fate of President Borusa, and to blunt any criticism of the previous High Council--"

"The High Council still serves until such time as it is replaced by the new President, whoever she may be," Isurnei said. "I do apologise," she added, turning to Trismegistus with a poisonous smile. "She _or he_."

"The High Council has been utterly discredited," Trismegistus shot back, "and dares not act on even the most straightforward of matters for fear of having to call the Chancellery Guard out to deal with riots in the corridors of the Capitol once more!"

"I would hardly call a few young hotheads spouting Shobogan slogans a 'riot'," Isurnei said. "Be that as it may, rest assured that the Shobogans will be dealt with once and for all when I--"

"If you become President," Wrobin said quietly, before turning to Romana. "Lady Romanadvoratrelundar?"

"I would certainly welcome a _civil_ debate about the future of Gallifrey," Romana said. "It is my concern for that future that has motivated me to put myself forward as a candidate, after all. I am willing to follow your rules if my esteemed fellow candidates are."

Trismegistus looked defeated. Romana had given him a way out if he really wanted it, but she had to admit that it wasn't much of one. "Very well," he said.

"Excellent," Wrobin said. "Then our business here is concluded. I wish you all the very best of luck."

Romana stood up first, offering her hand to the other two in turn to shake. They then shook hands with each other with extreme bad grace, and she felt a guilty thrill at having maneouvred them into it. As such, she was the first to the door.

"Ahh, my Lord Braxiatel," Wrobin said when it opened. "Perhaps I might have a moment of your time?"

Trismegistus simply looked shocked, but Isurnei immediately began to protest. "This is most irregular. A close confidante of one of the candidates should not be permitted an audience with--"

Wrobin looked at her levelly. "My business with Braxiatel is quite separate from anything that needs to concern you, I assure you. Or indeed anything that concerns Lady Romanadvoratrelundar. A family matter, if you like."

"But--"

"I do believe you agreed to my ground rules?" Wrobin said, smiling. "If you have a dispute with the Assembler of the Quorum, then I'm afraid I am the final arbiter."

"Madam Councillor," Braxiatel said to Isurnei with a deep bow, as he stepped inside.

Romana suppressed a giggle as she followed a fuming Isurnei out of the Assembler's chambers. Leela was waiting for her. Trismegistus loitered for a moment, seemingly on the verge of saying something to her, but then headed away.

"I hope it wasn't the presence of a mere savage that put him off," Leela said as they walked back in the direction of Romana's chambers.

"I should rather doubt it," Romana assured her. "He's more likely rather in awe of you, I should think."

"Really?"

"Times are changing here on Gallifrey," Romana said. "Many of the younger generation see you as something of an inspiring figure. They hope you will be the first of many outsiders to be welcomed here."

"I have never felt particularly welcome, truth be told," Leela said. "And is it to give these younger Time Lords a voice that you are putting yourself forward for the Presidency?"

"Would that it were that simple," Romana said. "The truth is that their older compatriots need to be brought to acknowledge that things must change. And, Time Lord life spans being what they are, there are of course far more older Time Lords than young ones."

"Romanadvoratrelundar!"

Romana turned round, saw the source of the the shout, and turned back as quickly as she could and picked up pace. "Talk to me, Leela."

"Who is that?" Leela asked, after glancing backwards herself.

"His name's Verstillian," Romana said. "A total bore who was in the same graduating class as me at the Academy. Now he works for Public Register Video. Ever since I joined the High Council, he's seen me as an easy touch for an interview."

"I see. And what should I talk to you about?"

"Anything, just give the appearance that it's something very important."

Leela looked lost for a moment, then leaned in close to say earnestly, "I think K9 may be in need of some routine maintenance."

"Most concerning," Romana said. "Indeed, I don't think you could ever call maintenance of K9 'routine'. His systems have been patched so many times in so many different time zones, and then of course there's navigating his hurt feelings about the idea that he might be in anything less than perfect condition."

"Yes, quite," Leela said, imbuing her voice with far more urgency than the response demanded. "I really think I will have to start persuading him soon if he's to allow a technician to look at him before he has some sort of major--"

"Councillor Romanadvoratrelundar!" the voice came again, much closer this time. The PRV man must have been practically sprinting through the corridors. Most undignified for a high born Gallifreyan, Romana thought to herself with a small smile. Definitely not the sort of thing she'd ever be caught doing. "Or should I say Candidate Romanadvoratrelundar? If I might just have a moment of your time ..."

There was no escaping him now. "I suspect, Verstillian, that your camera drone has its own primitive time dilator, for every time I give you a 'moment' it seems to last an awfully long time."

"Well, I thank you for sparing whatever of your extremely valuable time you can," Verstillian said. "You have to understand that there is great public interest in this, the first contested Presidential election in over a millennium."

"I think you may be forgetting certain more recent events involving the Master." Goth's untimely demise had removed the need for an election, but there had, for a time, been two candidates.

"Most interesting that you should bring that up," Verstillian said, "involving as it did, in addition to the Master, your renegade friend known only as 'the Doctor'."

"A renegade who, according to at least some interpretations of the constitution, is still the President himself, given the collapse of the show trial arranged for him," Romana pointed out. Only as she did so did she realise that Wrobin's ground rules meant that the Doctor, whether still President or not, at least counted as a former President and thus not someone she should be talking about. "Let's move on," she said, giving a slight cough.

"You have often spoken of your belief that Gallifrey needs to be more open to the outside universe ..." He turned to look at Leela, and the camera drone, slaved to his perceptual filters, wobbbled to follow his gaze. Romana could feel the force of Leela's glare in return without turning her head at all. "Would this become Presidential policy in a Romanadvoratrelundar administration?"

"Naturally," Romana said. "It is one of the main planks of my campaign."

"And yet you must understand that there are many who have grave concerns about such a course of action."

"I would hope to persuade them that their concerns are unfounded. I will have to succeed in doing that for some to win the election. And if I do, I will work on the others; after all, what is the purpose of the President but to lead?"

"Might I ask you about your time in E-Space?"

Romana smiled again, but it was getting harder to maintain the expression. "What about it?"

"Is it true that you have already begun secret negotiations with a time-active race from that continuum?"

"I have friends among the Tharils, if that is what you mean," Romana said. "But at the time I was in E-Space I held no formal remit and so of course any discussions I would have had with any of them would have been merely that, discussions amongst friends."

"'No formal remit' is an interesting way of phrasing it, if I might say so," Verstillian said. "After all, technically speaking you had absconded after failing to answer a summons to return to Gallifrey."

"Ah, well, I did go to the right co-ordinates."

"You did?"

"But in the wrong continuum. That's how I ended up on Alzarius. It has the same absolute co-ordinates in E-Space as Gallifrey does in N-Space."

"Yet when an opportunity later arose to return, you did not take it."

She decided not to let him drag her down this line of questioning. She certainly wasn't going to talk about K9, or Biroc. "I did not return immediately, that is true. I have returned now," Romana said, "and have served on the High Council for several years."

Verstillian cleared his throat. "That is undisputed. But you must understand--"

"You seem awfully keen on telling me what I must understand," Romana said, beginning to become impatient. "I would like to think that as, if nothing else, fellow graduates of the Academy, we might accord one another the courtesy of assuming some basic understanding."

Verstillian looked a little wounded. "Very well, then. If we might turn to your early life--"

"My Academy transcripts are a matter of public record."

"Indeed, and stellar in every respect," Verstillian said, a touch of acidity in his tone. "But I meant more your upbringing in the house of Heartshaven. A very minor house, one which has never before produced a candidate for the highest office. There have been rumours that in its early years House Heartshaven used ... certain technologies to bolster its ranks."

Romana's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

"Were you born, Candidate Romanadvoratrelundar, or were you loomed?"

Romana laughed out loud. "I've never heard anything more preposterous in all my life!"

"So you deny the charge?"

"I do not even grant it the status of a charge. The charge you clearly want to make against me is that I am some sort of dangerous radical. And to that charge, if you were brave enough to make it, I would answer this: yes, I am a radical. But I do not pose a danger to Gallifrey. The true danger lies in not being radical enough. Whether we like it or not, the universe is changing. To fail to change is simply to accept our own obsolescence. 

"And now with this ... looming business, you seem to be trying to suggest that I was spliced together with some sort of dangerous biodata from an ancient Time Lord and that's further proof that I'm an immense threat to everything the Time Lords hold dear. What next? Are you going to ask if I'm some sort of fifth column candidate for an undeclared renegade party, that I will grant Presidential pardons to every dubious interventionist, unethical researcher or outright genocidal maniac ne'er-do-well who ever absconded with a TARDIS. Luckily, that is a question I can answer extremely easily." She turned to look directly into the glinting lens of his camera drone and said, "No."

"I rather think this interview is now concluded, don't you?"

Verstillian and the camera drone both turned to face the new arrival.

"Tutor!" Verstillian said. "May I say what a great pleasure it is to see you again? I always enjoyed your classes at the Academy the best, you know--"

"Naturally," Braxiatel said, the merest hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Now remind me -- you would be?"

* * *

Back in Romana's chambers, Leela watched as the two Time Lords rehashed everything that had just happened. The initial euphoria of Verstillian's having beat a hasty retreat in the face of Braxiatel's withering indifference had given way to concern, though Leela had a strong sense that the cause of that concern was different for each of them.

"Is this really what I have to look forward to?" Romana asked. "Wilful misinterpretations of my past and wholly invented insinuations?"

Braxiatel seemed uncharacteristically agitated. "I blame myself," he said, not for the first time. "I should have been there."

"I _was_ there," Leela said. She put a hand on Romana's shoulder. "I should have been able to protect you."

Romana put her own hand over Leela's and squeezed. "You did your best to help me get away." Leela could think of many other things she could have done, but knew that Romana wouldn't want to hear about any of them. "But once he'd caught up with us, that was that. Verstillian's always been an annoyance, but he's never gone on the attack like that before."

"The stakes are higher now," Braxiatel said.

"I should have realised that Isurnei had agreed to Wrobin's ground rules far too readily," Romana said. "But now I understand why. She knew there would be people to do her dirty work for her."

"We should get Wrobin to issue an edict," Braxiatel said. "Hold the PRV channels and others to the same rules--"

"No," Romana said. "Even if Wrobin agreed, Isurnei and Trismegistus would unite in opposing it."

Braxiatel tilted his head from side to side; Leela could almost see him thinking it through from both perspectives. "She from naked political calcuation, he from his naive idealism about 'freedom of speech'."

"It's probably the only thing they'd ever manage to agree on," Romana said.

"Romana spoke the truth," Leela said.

"I'm sorry?" Braxiatel said.

"You are both worrying about what Romana said, but she spoke the truth of her heart. Surely that is what matters."

"She has a point," Romana said. "The positions I intend to take in the campaign are the positions I believe in. And they are what guided my answers."

Braxiatel gave them a look that mingled disappointment and pity with a clear sense that he thought they were being excessively naive. "You know that I agree with your positions," he said to Romana. "Why else would I be supporting you?" Leela suppressed a snort; she did not feel she knew Braxiatel all that well yet, but she had already learned that Braxiatel always had at least three reasons for anything he did. "But," Braxiatel continued, "we can definitely work on how you present them. You will need to win over moderates, persuade them that you are a steady hand as well as a fresh broom."

"I'd rather not be quite so mixed a metaphor," Romana said lightly.

"The people we need to vote for you want to know a lot more about your experience fighting corruption on the High Council than your experience fighting evil out there in the universe."

"Hmm, yes," Romana said. "I was wondering about that. One of Wrobin's ground rules took discussion of former Presidents off the table. Do you think he specifically intended that to prevent me from talking about the Doctor?"

"Even if he did, it's to your advantage, to be frank," Braxiatel said. "But it's not out of any animus against the Doctor on his part."

Leela interrupted him. "How can you be sure?"

Braxiatel gave a short laugh. "Do you know what the 'family matter' he wanted to talk to me about was?" He smiled broadly as both Leela and Romana looked at him nonplussed. "He wanted to know if I was in touch with my dear younger brother, and if so would I be open to trying to persuade him to return. You see, Romana, his research concurs with what you told Verstillian: that the Doctor could still be the President! And he's so desperate to avoid all the hassle of working out who's actually eligible to vote that he thinks it a desirable outcome."

"The Doctor would never--" Leela began.

"Well, indeed not, and I told Wrobin as such."

"Did he give you any hint about his latest thinking on the extent of the franchise?" Romana asked.

"Sadly, he is a man of his word and did not breathe a word to me of anything else," Braxiatel said. "But I would suspect that in this day and age, almost everyone who's ever walked through the door of the Academy meets at least two different eligibility criteria. It's all about the ancient rights of the chapters, colleges and orders and everyone can claim descent from someone somewhere."

"Unless they really were created _ex nihilo_ ," Romana said with a wry smile.

"If he does bring that sort of thing up again -- or anyone else does, for that matter -- I don't think you should dignify it with any sort of answer. Say something like 'the reproductive arrangements of all Houses are private matters, by ancient custom'."

"That is the answer of someone with something to hide," Leela said.

"If they won't believe the truth," Braxiatel said, "then don't give them the satisfaction of any answer at all. You don't want to get dragged into that nonsense." He looked at Romana keenly, and Leela sensed there was something going on that she did not follow. "Promise me, Romana?"

"Very well," Romana said.

None of them spoke for a few moments. "You will be a good President," Leela said eventually.

Romana smiled at her. "But only if I win the election."

"It _would_ be much easier to settle the whole thing by single combat," Leela said. "That is the way of the Sevateem, when a leader fails."

"Do you know," said Romana, "after today that sounds almost tempting."

"I would happily be your champion," Leela said. She was already mentally sizing up the opponents: the boy would be a pushover, but the woman was dangerous in her own way.

"I did say 'almost tempting'. But thank you. Thank you, both of you," she said with a yawn. "I think I need some rest. I will see you both tomorrow."

Romana retreated to her private rooms. Leela wished there was more she could do to help.

"Well, my dear," Braxiatel said to Leela with a minute bow. "I shall see you tomorrow as well. Give my regards to your husband."

Leela held him back as he made for the door, a vague disquiet that had been forming in her mind for some time finally taking shape. "Andred always speaks highly of how much he learned from you when you were a tutor at the Academy," she said. "And that man today, with his words like janis thorns, he remembered you too."

"Indeed," Braxiatel said quietly.

"But he was in the same class as Romana," Leela said. "And she doesn't remember you at all. She told me once that she first met you when she joined the High Council, after she came back from her travels."

Braxiatel took her hand off his elbow, placing it through it instead. "My dear, let me walk with you a little way and explain to you the concept of an elective course."

* * *

The image of Romanadvoratrelundar projected from the camera drone spoke, "--at I was spliced together with some sort of dangerous biodata from an ancient Time Lord and--"

It really was most amusing. The "Ice Maiden" herself from the Academy desperately begging for votes, and making such a mess of things. Verstillian adjusted the start and end points for the clip and played it again. "I was spliced together with some sort of dangerous biodata from an ancient Time Lord a--"

He was making a minute adjustment to the end point when he heard the voice. "A bit too much, don't you think?"

Verstillian whirled round in his chair, alarmed. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else in here. When he saw who it was, he didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed. "Tutor Braxiatel," he said. With a bravery he didn't feel, he added, "I suppose it was always going to be either you or that savage Romanadvoratrelundar sent to try to silence me."

"Oh, I can assure you, no one sent me, except myself."

"Where did you come from anyway?" Verstillian asked defiantly. He had deadlock sealed the doors to his chambers before beginning work.

"Wrong question," Braxiatel said. "But then I seem to remember that being a habit of yours, asking the wrong questions."

"I won't be intimidated," he said, his voice betraying him by coming out in a strangled high-pitched squeak.

"Good for you," Braxiatel said. "But you aren't planning on using this, are you? Romana's given you plenty of other unfortunate quotes to take out of context. No one's going to take this nonsense seriously."

"They don't have to take it seriously," Verstillian said. "Mockery can be just as--"

"You've never been to the Axis, have you?" Braxiatel's voice was even, measured, and yet still somehow menacing. "You know full well that no one on Gallifrey has sprung full-formed from a breeding engine since the Dark Times. But there are alternate Gallifreys that weren't so fortunate. I've seen them. There are even some where 'that savage' is revered as a matriarch, the first mother to a Time Lord child in ten million years."

"Now you're the one talking nonsense. Romanadvoratrelundar has to be stopped precisely because--"

"I don't care what your motivations are," Braxiatel said, his tone becoming much harsher. "Taking orders from someone in the CIA who has something on you, long-festering academic jealousy, some altogether ... baser feelings you harbour towards Romana, twisted into some perverse desire for revenge. Maybe you're even genuinely motivated by a belief that Gallifrey would be best served by Irsunei becoming President."

Braxiatel took a step closer, so that he was just on the opposite side of the desk. Verstillian started to stand up but shrank back into his chair under the glare Braxiatel gave him, cursing his own cowardice as he did so. Braxiatel continued, "I don't even mind if you make these sorts of ridiculous attacks, in the main, because quite frankly you'll do Romana more good than harm; people will see straight through you. But this particular quote--" He waved his hand across the image the drone was still projecting "--is going to have to be erased." He picked up the camera drone, and the image sparkled into nothingness. "You haven't made any copies yet, have you?"

"No," Verstillian said, cursing himself as soon as the word was out of his mouth for his instinct to tell the truth to his old tutor.

"Well, that makes things much easier," Braxiatel said, as he prised open the casing of the drone and reached inside. "Just this one copy to delete. Romana wasn't loomed, of course," he went on. "But what she just said is a little too near the knuckle in other ways, even if she doesn't know it herself."

"You're being remarkably candid, if I might say so."

"Yes, well, that's because I'm going to be editing your memory too. You're not going to remember me doing any of this."

"You wouldn't--"

"Oh, I would. I really would." Braxiatel smiled thinly at him. "You know, it's never occurred to me why Time Lords, of all people, aren't more alert to the possibility that they might be meeting one another in different subjective orders."

"Because that would be a violation of the First Law of Time! Are you really admitting--"

"On general principle, I try to make a habit of admitting as little as possible," Braxiatel said smoothly. "I'm merely trying to point you in the direction of the right questions. Questions like: if Romana did have some sort of dangerous ancient Time Lord rattling around in her head, where would it be likely to end up, in the long run? Who might possibly be willing to take on that burden on her behalf? Questions like: when did I come from, not where?" He advanced, his hand outstretched. "Now, hold still, Verstillian. This won't hurt a bit. Or at least, you aren't going to remember it hurting ..."

**Author's Note:**

> I freely admit that I've taken a very pick and mix approach to canon here, and ignored completely certain bits of detail we're given about how Romana ascended to the Presidency (which are, in true Who style, mutually contradictory anyway, even just within the confines of Gallifrey series 2 ...).


End file.
